Liturgy, Prayer

Make us ready: a centering prayer

You know our names and call to us before we are born.
You choose us.

You wait patiently until we are ready
ready to hear you
ready to do the work you set out for us.

You wait until we have grown into the people you made us to be.

We hear you calling.

Make us ready, we pray.
Stretch our minds,
open our hearts,
strengthen our spirits.

Make us ready to answer your call,
to be a light to the earth,
to serve the world with love.

Prayer inspired by Isaiah 49:1-7. You are welcome to use it in worship. 


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Call, If I Were Preaching, Reflectionary

Curiosity, Community, Confidence

Curiosity is step one in many call stories, to all forms of discipleship. My journey to discerning a call to ministry began with a 1987 visit to a Congregational (UCC) church. It amazed me that one of the pastors leading worship that day was a woman. As soon as the service ended, I found a church brochure that included her bio. Like me, she had grown up Southern Baptist. She wasn’t the first clergywoman I had met, and this experience wasn’t the first that pointed me toward ministry, but it was the first time I had seen a women serving as a pastor in a local church. 

Was this something I could do, too? I wanted to know more, so I came back the next Sunday. 

John 1 introduces us to John the Baptist and his disciples. Imagine standing around talking with people you know well and suddenly hearing your most trusted teacher say, “Look, it’s the savior we’ve been waiting for!” This vignette feels both odd and touching to me. Two of John’s disciples follow Jesus, and he asks what they are looking for, and – maybe not knowing how to ask what they really want to know – they ask where he is staying. They’re about as suave as a group of ninth-graders standing outside the high school on the first day, not sure of the right time to go inside. They want to know more, so they follow him.

Our call into Community, which I understand to mean both context and relationships, is step two. The disciples who followed Jesus that day were the first, and we are among the latest to join that mystic sweet communion beyond time and space. The greeting from Paul’s first letter to the church at Corinth stresses the foundation for community laid down by God: grace, and testimony, and spiritual gifts, and strength. We can find joy in the gathered voices of a worshipping community, and comfort in the sharing of mutual burdens, and power in the collective will to serve and bring glory to God. In those seasons when the world burns and we can’t quite believe it all, there are others to carry us along. 

Although the church is flawed — it’s full of people, so of course it is! — I have confidence that the call to community comes from God.

That Confidence is step three on the path of discipleship. It’s not a belief in ourselves or our abilities. It comes with time and experience and cannot be shaken by circumstances. It opens the possibility of asking questions, and working things out, and growing through our misunderstandings, fears, and mistakes. Peter’s place in the gospel lesson reminds us that even the original disciples would get it wrong, then come back and get it right after all.

Whoever we are, wherever we are, whenever in history we live, God calls us beloved and calls us into relationship with each other and service to the world in Christ’s name. Holy Confidence is a trust in God so deep that we can say these words with the Psalmist, 

Here I am; in the scroll of the book it is written of me.

I delight to do your will, O my God; your law is within my heart.

Psalm 40:7-8

If I were preaching this week, I might unfold these three steps, or I might simply focus on Curiosity. What does God call each of us to do? How are the spiritual gifts of people in our faith community compatible or complementary? What is the work God has for us in the world? Whatever it is, God invites us to “Come and see.”


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Baptism, Baptism of Christ, If I Were Preaching, Reflectionary

Baptized Beloved

At the corner where the transept met the nave of Faith United Church of Christ sat an armchair with an embroidered pillow and an afghan draped neatly over the back. Just before my first service as their Interim pastor started on an early September Sunday, I caught a flurry of activity out of the corner of my eye. A delicate elderly woman sat there, with the afghan over her lap, while whoever had helped her get settled had quickly disappeared out a side door. I made sure to greet her during the Passing of the Peace, and over the next few months I learned her story. Maisie was 93, and her husband had died the year before. The mystery helper was a son faithful in making sure she got to worship. I learned about her childhood in Scotland and the death of a beloved daughter. I met the married son who lived in another town. She trusted me with the committal of her husband’s ashes in a country cemetery. Maisie, both fragile and strong, held her family together. 

In the New Year, I decided to mark Baptism of Christ Sunday with a remembrance of our own baptisms. It surprised me that the idea was new to the congregation, but the elders agreed we could make the ritual part of the service that week. I brought a large glass bowl from home, so we could see the water. Everyone who could came forward; their faces held a tender curiosity that moved me. Then, with an elder’s help, I carried the bowl to Maisie’s armchair. I remember the expression of surprise and delight on her kind face as I offered a blessing and laid a handful of water on her head. 

Eight days later, I spoke the words of that blessing again at her hospital bedside, as death approached: “Maisie, beloved child of God, remember your baptism.” 

Remember your baptism, we say, relying on memory beyond reason.

For the practical members of that historically German Reformed UCC congregation, the notion seemed almost funny. “I was six weeks old,” one said, “how could I remember that?” A few had stories about being baptized as older children. “My mother called the pastor, I think he was Lutheran, and he came to our house and baptized all five of us in a row,” an older lady told me, and the story sounded like one she had heard over and over from her mother, rather than a material memory of her own. 

The passage from Isaiah this week is a “servant song,” and as Susan Ackerman writes in the notes of the New Interpreter’s Study Bible, “The identity of the servant, chosen by God to bring justice to the nations, is debated.”* We can cast back to Jacob as a representation of Israel, or to Moses, or forward to Jesus, but rather than going down the road of supersessionism, I think we can make the case that all the baptized are chosen for and called to a servant identity, to work for God’s kingdom that will establish justice, bring release to prisoners, and offer a light to all nations.

Sometimes it’s hard enough to offer that light in our own small circles of influence, a congregation, a workplace, a home, and that’s why we look to the ones who do it so well. Maisie’s sons told me she was the light at the window for their family. Even in seasons of deep loss, she held onto her faith and helped them hold onto theirs. If I could go back to that Sunday and stand by her armchair, I would speak those words of blessing differently, I think, as a benediction on her faithful life. 

“Remember that you are baptized, and you are a beloved child of God.”

Baptized Beloved, chosen servants, I hope you remember it, too. 


*New Interpreter’s Study Bible (Abingdon Press, 2003), my favorite one volume go-to, p. 1012. 


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